A Trade
by ThomE.Gemcity-06
Summary: Episode Tag:Formality. When Stiles runs into Peter on the field, he trades himself for Lydia. After helping him find where Derek is being held, Peter gives Stiles a gift.


**a/n: Episode Tag: Formality pt.1 (Peter is the Alpha and Derek's uncle), spoilers.**

**A Trade**

Stiles forced down his fear and the urge to turn and haul tail as he stared into Peter's eyes. Lydia lay unconscious and bloody under Peter's crouched form, Stiles wasn't sure how serious it was but he did know that she was alive. "_You're the smart one_." Peter's last statement repeated itself in his head, and his finger nails dug into the grass as he fisted his hands.

Stiles flinched as Peter roared, inches from his face. "Tell me now, or she dies!" he hollered.

"_Fine_!" Stiles yelled back. "Just don't kill her."

"Then tell me where Derek is." he said in a threatening manner, his sharpened nail gliding down the side of Lydia's face.

"He was in a shoot-out, you know." Stiles pointed out, his teeth clenched. "But," he continued as Peter's eyes flashed red. "If he did survive and the hunters have, then if he has his cell phone and it's on . . ." Stiles trailed off, hesitant to get involved with the Alpha—but if he could save Lydia . . .

"Good." Peter smiled at him.

It wasn't a evil smile per-say, it just looked at way on his lips. Stiles swallowed audibly, licking his dry lips. He didn't like the look on Peter's face, the look in his eyes.

Peter stood up, straightening his coat. He looked down at Stiles. "Hand me your cell phone." he said softly.

Stiles was frozen for a second, before reaching into his suit jacket with a shaking hand. He grasped his cell phone tightly as he pulled it from his pocket and held it out to Peter, his knuckles white. Peter took it, pressed a few buttons before he dropped it to the ground, and crushed it with his foot. He gave Stiles one last look before he turned and started to walk towards the woods the woods.

"Jackson's on his way." Peter told Stiles. "Now hurry before I run out of patience and do something that you will regret."

Stiles gave Lydia one last look before he scrambled to his feet and went after Peter. He hoped that Lydia was fine and that when she awoke that she wouldn't remember a thing. He didn't know what was going to happen, but he did hope that tonight no one was going to die—and the one comfort in being with Peter was the fact that at the moment he wasn't after Alison. Tonight was supposed to be awesome; he had finally gotten a date with the one girl that he had been crushing on, even though she was still obviously in love with Jackson. It didn't matter much to Stiles, because tonight she was with _him_, and not Jackson. He was going to have his first kiss . . . but once again Scott's problems took over his life.

* * *

><p>Stiles didn't think that there was anything worse than having Derek Hale in his room and or house, and near his Dad, but he could be dead wrong some times. Like in this moment, because the one thing that was worse than having Derek in his room, was having his Alpha killer Uncle in his room. But it wasn't like he could do anything about that fact, because with the blink of the eye, Peter could snap his neck and eat him—just like Derek had always threatened to do.<p>

Stiles sat at his computer, his shoulders tense as he could feel Peter watching over his shoulders—he figured that Peter thought that he would try and send an email to Scott—Stiles had already learned that was a very messy idea if he were to get caught. When he had had Danny over to see if he could find the source of the email that was sent to Alison in Scott's name, Stiles had watched very closely to what he did.

He typed in Derek's cell phone serial number and pressed enter. It was quite simple really, it was just a website were you typed the serial number in for your cell, and it'll locate it for you. It was a website to help you find your cell and the security on it was atrocious. The location came up and Stiles was dumb-founded.

"They're keeping him in his own house?" Stiles asked, incredulous.

Peter leaned over Stiles' shoulder to look at the screen, after a moment he shook his head slightly. "Not in it, under it." he stood back up. "I suppose that it would be the best place, no one would think to look there."

Stiles quickly stood, turning his back to the wall just as Peter turned to him. "We're done right? I helped you, so you're not going to kill you."

Peter cocked his head slightly. "Of course not, I like you Stiles so I'm going to do you one more . . . and give you the bite."

Stiles took a step back, hitting the computer desk behind him. "W-what?" he stammered.

"You heard me." Peter gave that same smile as his hand snapped out a grabbed Stiles' wrist, pulling the teen towards him. Stiles tried to resist but the Peter was way stronger then him. He tensed, clenching his hand at his side into a fist as Peter brought Stiles' arm next to his mouth. "That is, if you want it." his irises flashed red and his teeth grew and sharpened.

"I don't." Stiles said through a clenched jaw. He tried to yank his arm from Peter's grasp—his chances none existent—he could feel the Alpha's grip tighten any way, the bones in Stiles' wrist grinding together.

"Don't even try and lie to me." Peter said. "Even if I couldn't hear your heart beating so fast, I would still be able to tell that you're lying." he gave a roar before plunging his fangs into the flesh of Stiles' forearm.

Stiles yelled out in pain, his knee's buckling. He fell to the ground when Peter removed his teeth from his flesh and let go of his wrist. Stiles gritted his teeth as he help his injured arm to his chest. He looked up at Peter with hatred filled eyes.

Peter looked down at him. "We'll see each other again . . . well, if you live." he smiled before turning and going out the open window.

Stiles sneered at his retreated back before he took a look at the bit mark on his arm. It was big and it was deep and it was gushing blood everywhere. He stood and grabbed his sweater from of the back of his computer chair, pressing it against the wound. He lay down on his bed, curling in a ball. Tears filled his and leaked down his cheeks—he hadn't cried since his mother died.

At the moment Stiles wasn't quite sure which was worse—becoming a werewolf or dying from it.


End file.
